


The First Night

by Cryswimmer



Series: I Look Forward to It [11]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryswimmer/pseuds/Cryswimmer
Summary: After the Minotaur, the Doctor is alone.  He does not do well alone...





	

The First Night

He had hated to leave them, but he hated more the thought that something might happen to them because of him. He needed them to be safe. So he had found them the perfect house, got them the perfect car, and left them to have a perfect life that was safe and predictable. Still, he felt no desire to replace them as companions. He preferred to travel alone when faced with the prospect of getting to know someone new. 

It was strange, really. Normally it was the new and different that appealed to him. But right now, he just wanted some stability. He wished fleetingly that he could drop in on an old companion – perhaps Jack or Martha – but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Different face, different life, different friends. He even wondered about dropping in on Sarah Jane – as she had seen him in so many faces – but she was a mother now. If he couldn't risk Amy and Rory, then he certainly couldn't put Sarah Jane in danger.

But he was... lonely. The TARDIS was just so damned quiet. He was used to Amy's effervescent energy, and Rory's persistent presence. He wasn't used to this silence. He didn't like it. The TARDIS lacked the sounds of life, and it made him sad. He wanted to be with someone. He wanted to travel with someone. He wanted to get his mind off himself, and onto worlds around him. Normally he would just move on to the next destination, but he just didn't want to go there alone.

He wandered around the TARDIS console time after time, but couldn't bring himself to select a destination. Finally, he turned and began to throw switches in a nearly random manner. He would let the TARDIS decide, and go where she took him. 

As he landed, he glanced at the status monitors and raised his eyebrows in recognition, but not in surprise. He hadn't planned it – hadn't thought he was planning it – but he found himself outside River Song's cell at Stormcage. Well, Amy had asked him to say hello to her daughter, so he would just have to do that.

He opened the door slowly, never sure what reception he would get. Some days she was thrilled to see him, and on others she was annoyed due to something he had done, and yet hadn't lived to know about yet. Unusually, he found her reading. It was an unusual sight for him, to see her curled up on her side on the cot, one hand under her face and the other tucked up under her chin like a small child. She was quiet, and she looked so young laying there. For just a moment he wondered if he wouldn't be better off to climb right back through the door and take off.

He didn't get the chance. Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled. “Hello, Sweetie,” she said, her voice low and throaty with sleep. 

Immediately, he felt guilt. “I'm sorry,” he said quickly, backing through the door and preparing to close it. “I didn't mean to wake you. Didn't really look at the time, come to that,” he admitted. “I'll go...”

“You will not,” she corrected, sitting up and rubbing both hands over her face. “Sonic me out of here and tell me what's wrong.”

He smiled a bit as he watched her stride towards him as though she had no doubt he would do just what she said. Honestly, she knew him rather well. He pointed the sonic screwdriver at her cell door and watched her push it open. Just watching her, seeing her movement and no longer feeling so alone, lifted his spirits somewhat.

He let her push past him into the TARDIS and pushed the door closed before turning. She was already at the console, preparing for flight. “When and where?” she asked.

“Your choice,” he answered, not ready to make any decisions. “Oh, and your mum says 'Hi,'.”

She gave him a full grin. “She's not with us, then?”

“No,” he told her. “Not anymore.”

Her head jerked up. “What happened?” she asked urgently, walking towards him with an intent expression. “Is she okay?”

“She's fine,” he told her, putting his hands on her arms both to calm and to stop her before she mowed him over. “I just dropped them off. Got them a house, lovely little car. They're going to try being a married couple for a while. They may just enjoy it.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly startled. “I thought they'd always travel with you. I suppose that's silly. Of course they...”

“It's too dangerous,” he said softly. “River, I've lost so many... I couldn't stand to lose them. It's better this way. I can always visit, and your mother can always ring me if she needs something. I just can't take the risk.”

“It's their risk,” she told him, still looking confused. “You never dragged them kicking and screaming into the TARDIS.”

“No, but I offered little Amelia Pond everything. She never really had a chance to refuse. And we did kidnap your father – from his bachelor party – and he couldn't just leave her with me. They didn't have a choice; not really.”

She thought about that. “It would be hard to give up,” she admitted. “Traveling with you is an adventure.”

“But not safe. I sometimes forget that humans are... fragile.”

“Have you ever kept a companion who wanted to leave?”

“Not exactly.”

She raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

“I didn't keep them, but I sometimes delayed taking them home. I did it with Martha, until when I did take her back she was scarred. If I had taken her one adventure sooner, she would have suffered less loss, less pain.”

She didn't reply. He didn't blame her. He remembered too vividly the pain in Martha’s eyes after watching him lose his “daughter”. Her job was intended to save lives, not to let them slip away. It had been one death too many which she could not avert. He had a feeling something more had happened as well while they had been separated on the planet, but she had never admitted it. 

“We need to go,” he told her. He went over to the circular console and pushed a button, threw a lever, and they dematerialized from the prison. “Where shall we go?” he asked.

“Find us a nice, quiet orbit,” she requested. “I'm still groggy... not up to running about a planet.”

He nodded, and did as she wished. He wasn't really in the mood for an adventure, either. When the TARDIS was stable in a fixed orbit above a rather large, lavender colored planet, he turned to face her. “Orbiting,” he told her. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. “You look so tired. You look sad, lost, but mostly tired. How long has it been since you slept?”

“I don't find sleep particularly... restful.”

“Nightmares?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, in an uncharacteristic display of honesty. “Actually, most of the time. I don't really need very much sleep, anyway.”

“But you need some?”

Grudgingly, he nodded, and tried to remember the last time he'd laid down.

“One night,” she asked softly. Rounding the circular console, she placed a hand on the side of his face and turned it towards her. “I don't want you to be alone tonight.”

He looked at her for a long moment, wanting more than anything to run. River Song always left him wanting to run, and he always found himself staying. Marriage hadn't changed that. “Fine.”

She smiled at that, and moved about the console. She flipped switches, moved knobs, and adjusted dials. Any other time he would have protested her taking over his TARDIS, but she probably did know what she was doing. In any case, he found that he simply didn't have the energy to fight her. This was a new feeling to him... helplessness. He had lost companions before, and had often left them, but Amelia was more than a companion. She had been... family.

He watched River smoothly shut down most systems on the TARDIS. She was very good at it, and the TARDIS loved her. Child of the TARDIS, he thought again. It was no wonder she was so important to him. She was part Amy and part TARDIS, and all woman. He forced his thoughts from that direction. It didn't seem appropriate when he was grieving. And he was grieving, he realized. That he had initiated the separation was irrelevant. He was still away from someone he cared for.

After a few more moments, she turned towards him. “Now, let's go lay down.”

“Let me guess, you have read my mind and know exactly what I need.” His voice was flat, dull. He didn't sound like himself.

“I have a good idea,” she said softly. “And I certainly know what I need.”

He let her slip a hand into his as she led him up the stairs and down a corridor. They walked past the library, took a left at the galley, and he followed her into one of the many bedrooms. She turned to him then, reaching for his tie, and he stepped back.

“River...”

“I'm not going to attack you,” she assured him. “I just need to sleep. Yesterday was exhausting, and if I don't lay down I just might fall down. You may not think you need it, but I do.”

“Then by all means,” he began, gesturing to the bed and not continuing.

“I don't want to be alone,” she told him again. “And you shouldn't be alone. And I don't want to curl up with tweed. Take off the tie and the jacket. Suspenders, too. The shirt is up to you.” Having said that she turned around and gave him her back while she unfastened her belt and began walking towards the bathroom which adjoined the bedroom. Funny, he didn't remember it being there, but then the TARDIS had a way of putting everything where it needed to be. The TARDIS also had a way of looking after her, and of him.

He reached for his tie and slowly untied it, then he shrugged out of his tweed jacket, tossing it on the chair which was sitting next to the wardrobe on the near wall. Then he removed his tie and looped it over the jacket. He thought about his suspenders, and decided to take them off as well. By the time River returned from the dressing room wearing only her vest and gray socks, he was seated on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

“Leaving your trousers on?” she asked him with a quick glance. “That's fine, then. I know you won't always be so shy. I remember.”

He just looked at her. She had a way of making him feel as though he was almost lost. It was an unusual feeling, but not always unwanted. He got tired of always being the one who saved the day. He got tired of always being the one the world ran to. He got tired of having to find the answers. So once, just this once, he was going to let her lead. His head hurt, and his hearts hurt, and he didn't want to care about anything. His Amelia Pond was gone, and he didn't want to ever care about something or someone he could lose again.

Shoes off, he sat and waited for her to decide what to do. He didn't have long to wait. “Lay down,” she told him softly. “Just lay down.”

He did as she told him, scooting back on the bed, stretching his legs out, and resting his head against the pillows. River looked at him for a long moment, and then climbed up on the bed to lay down beside him.

She lay her head on his chest, her ear against his left heart, and rested her hand next to it, against his right. One of her legs, soft and warm, rested on his leg as she curved herself into him. She fit to his side perfectly, and his arm went around her as if by instinct. She was quiet, resting against him with an ease that he was fearfully sure he could get used to. He stayed quiet as long as he could, and then finally spoke.

“You've done this before,” he said quietly.

“You, too,” she replied easily. “Or, you will. It's rather mixed up, to be truthful. Even I get a bit lost at times. You see, at first I thought that I was going as you were coming, or that I was coming as you were going, but it's not quite that simple. I started to realize that sometimes we move the same direction in time. It makes it hard to know where we are in the time line. I wouldn't have figured it out except for the diary. I write mine from front to back, of course. I never see inside yours, but I do see you flipping pages both directions when we meet. I've watched, and you always have to find me and find where we are. So, I think that's why I get confused. I feel like I know you more than I do, or less than I do. All of it is confused.” He felt her give a shrug before she became silent.

He didn't need to sleep very much. In all honesty, he avoided sleep until he was so tired that his brain struggled to function. Like all sentient beings he needed sleep, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Only when he was totally exhausted did he manage to escape the nightmares that haunted him. He had seen too many horrible things, been witness to atrocities he wanted so badly to forget, and yet his subconscious didn't dare. During the day he could block them out by becoming so busy that he had no time to dwell on them. He didn't spend any more time sleeping than was absolutely necessary. Well, he rested on occasion, but he never really deliberately laid down for a straight eight hours the way humans did. 

The TARDIS made bedrooms because he often had companions, and he couldn't even remember the last time he had used one of them. A chair was most often adequate for him, or he would just prop up on the TARDIS console and close his eyes for a bit. But now he lay with a woman in his arms – with his wife in his arms – and had no idea why he had waited so long. This wasn't so bad after all.

He didn't sleep at first. He didn't think River did, either. They lay quietly as he just held her, and drew some comfort from that. Oddly, just the fact that he knew she was hurting too, if for no other reason than because he was, made the pain more bearable. When he had lost Galifrey, part of the pain had been that he was the only one to bear it. He had felt responsible for that grieving, as through it had been required to carry the memory of his people forever. In losing Amy and Rory, River would share that pain and this gave him some relief. A burden shared was a burden halved; perhaps there was some truth to that saying.

River finally slept. He could tell almost to the instant when she drifted off. Her body became heavier, and her breathing deepened. Then hand over his right heart went limp, and her body just melted into his. She had to be absolutely exhausted, and he knew she carried burdens of her own. It was easy to forget, given the careless way she flowed from one adventure into another, but her life had not been an easy one. Her heart, so fragile and human, must be broken on occasion. She didn't complain – not really – and for the most part she just did what needed doing and moved right along. But he could not know everything in her heart. So he held her, and in doing so he gave comfort and he took it, without really admitting that he needed it. He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and just let her rest.

When he finally slept, his dreams were just what he had expected. They were less detailed, perhaps, but no less nightmarish for the lack of information. He dreamed that he was lost, looking desperately for his companion, and yet unable to remember her name. He couldn't call out for her, so he ran frantically and searched. When he jerked awake, River was there in his arms.

“Go back to sleep, Sweetie,” she said softly as she rubbed the shirt over his heart. “I'm right here. You're safe. Just sleep.” Her final words slurred as she slipped back to sleep herself, but they had the desired effect and he followed her back into sleep.

The cycle repeated itself several times during the night. His nightmares, his waking, her soothing, and their sleeping. By the third or fourth time, he wondered if she was really even waking up. It was just so automatic, the way she eased him back into sleep. And the oddest part to him was the absolute comfort. She was right... she was there, and he was okay. He had done the right thing, both for Amy and Rory and for himself. Living with it might hurt a bit now, but it was a far less intense pain than what he would feel standing over their graves. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.

He lost count of the cycles of sleeping and waking he went through before River started to move more. As he woke her with his agitation, the words she spoke became less automatic and more alert. Finally, he jerked awake for the last time to find her propped on her arm beside him, watching him with her hand still resting on his chest over his hearts.

“Hello,” he told her, still feeling slightly groggy which was more than uncharacteristic of him. But then, he didn't normally sleep. He napped, he rested, but he didn't sleep.

“Feel better?” she asked softly.

He started to deny it automatically, but stopped himself as he took inventory. How did he feel? Heavy, he decided. But his thoughts were clear, and his hearts had eased from a significant pain to a dull ache. “Yes,” he finally answered. 

“Good,” she told him with a smile. Her eyes were alert, and her curls seemed to poke out in every direction. The smile was at once flirtatious and sweet, and it was a disarming combination.

She was still against his right side, and while she was propped he still had his right arm around her. He lifted his left and glanced at his watch with some surprise. “Nine hours!” he exclaimed. “I never sleep nine hours!”

“Not often,” she corrected. “And really, you didn't. You were in and out for most of it, as you usually are. It used to keep me up half the night, but I've gotten used to it.”

“We do this often, then?” he asked, wondering if he'd get an answer.

“Yes,” she admitted. “And it's a spoiler, but I think you need to hear it. You taught me that the rules sometimes have to be broken in order to keep our sanity.”

He thought about that. “I didn't think to ask when this was for you,” he thought aloud. “You must not have any idea when we are.”

“After the tower?,” she asked him.

“What tower?”

“Good to know,” she said softly. 

“So the tower is important?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“It's all important,” she told him. “Every moment we spend with one another means something, at least to one of us.”

He watched her a moment more, seeing the sadness that was so often present. beneath the jaunty exterior. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, shifting away from him.

“For hurting you,” he admitted. “I never mean to. I know we are always in different places, have different... expectations. I realize that hurts you some of the time, and I'm sorry.

“It isn't your fault,” she told him. “It isn't anyone's fault. It's a hazard of traveling in time, and we both have to deal with it. The alternative is not knowing one another at all, and I don't think I could live with that.”

“I'm sure I don't make it any easier,” he admitted. “I'm used to being the one with the foreknowledge.”

“One day you will do,” she said softly, sitting up and turning her back on him. “And I'm sorry for that.”

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

“You're awake now,” she said. “You're rested, and you're thinking. You aren't at a point where this is comfortable for you, so I'll wait until it is. Do you mind if I use that wonderful bathroom?”

“Help yourself,” he allowed.

“What's the third tap?”

He was taken off guard, thinking about what she had said, rather than what she was currently asking.

“The tap in the middle,” she elaborated. “In the bathtub.”

“Oh,” he smiled. “Lemonade.”

She turned back to look at him, raising one eyebrow in apparent disbelief.

“She has a sense of humor,” he explained.

“Yes, she does,” River agreed.

He watched her go, feeling a different kind of guilt. He knew the dangers of jumping ahead, knew the line he treaded when he came to her this way, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. The comfort she brought him was more than he'd ever known, and he wasn't willing to give it up. He only hoped that he didn't hurt her very much more before he knew her well enough to understand.


End file.
